


Way down, Hadestown

by orphan_account



Series: Tidbits [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Canon Temporary Character Death, Child Death, Damian Feels, Everybody's furious, Feels, Gen, Grief, Hades is done with the Wayne's shit, Idiot babybat also deserves better, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Liberties are taken with greek mythology, Mourning, No Bashing, Nobody is dealing with things well, Rated T for Trashmouth, Sad with a Happy Ending, Steph feels, Strap in kids, Underworld, everybody's sad, idiot duckboi deserves better, it's time for some feels, mentions of suicidal ideation, more at twelve, not as bad as Disney's hercules, tim feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 03:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Damian's dead and Tim has lost one too many people to accept that.Platonic Orpheus-Eurydice not-AU set after Damian's canonical death (that I am still deeply bitter about). Likely throws Wonder Woman canon right out of the window.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Everyone
Series: Tidbits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541653
Comments: 24
Kudos: 388





	Way down, Hadestown

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any recognizable, or related, characters, settings, or plot device. This all belongs to DC comics, no copyright intended. I'm just playing in this sandbox, having a little fun with characters I love dearly. I make no profit from this, or from any other fanwork.  
I do not own Hadestown either. The lyrics I use I scene breaks in this scene are from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMX90HtVmPc This wonderful song.  
  
In this universe, Bruce doesn't take Jason to Ethiopia when Damian dies, because honestly, fuck that. This Bruce Wayne is a decent dad. Instead, he tries to ask Jason if he's got any leads, or any single idea on how he came back. He pushes a bit too much, and, seeing as they're all at their emotional capacity already, they argue. 
> 
> Jason feels even more like shit when he realizes he can't help Damian. He thinks he's disappointed Bruce - he hasn't - and is generally very much not okay with anything.
> 
> Thus that one line in the fic. But I'm not interested in an abuser!Batman. He might not be the most emotionally stable guy around, or even always make the best decisions, but he cares so much. Cartoons!Bruce and 80-90s!Bruce is the best Bruce imho.

**_-Now in Hadestown there was a lot of souls-_ **

He stumbles out of the dark tunnels, so full of stalactites and stalagmites that making it this far without breaking one or both ankles had been nigh impossible, and finally - _finally_ \- catches a glimpse of the Cocytus.

The first impression Tim gets of the Underworld is how _crowded_ it is. Thousands of souls roaming the grim banks of the river. That’s not counting the number of creatures overlooking the entire scene, from one bank or the other. Centaurs and gorgons squabbling. Picking on the few humans brave, uncaring, or idiotic enough to wander within their reach.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Tim straightens up and start walking again.

Brave, idiotic, uncaring. He’s been called all of that and more. He’s not about to let it stop him.

** _-Low, keep your head, keep your head-_ **

** **

The living does not belong amongst the dead. The dead often resents the living. Tim cannot be noticed by anyone but Charon before he manages to secure his way across.

He’d lose his only chance at ever getting out otherwise.

He’d also lose his only chance at succeeding. At bringing Damian back.

Funny, he’s never felt so at risk of getting robbed before. Not even in the middle of Gotham’s worst neighborhood at night. Tim wants to laugh, but, well.

He has to be more discreet than that if he ever wants to get back to his family. In plain view of Penthos, Phobos, and Algea is no place for levity. So Tim keeps his head down, trudges his way through the damp, cold mud, doing his best not to cross paths with anyone - or anything that could spot him.

** _-Working on the wall with all their might-_ **

** **

Most people aren’t getting the proper rites nowadays. Some Amazons do all they can, but a lot of souls never get to cross.

Out of all the possible pantheons, the Greek Gods are far from the most forgiving.

Still, out of the big three, Hades is without a doubt the fairest. That’s what Tim is banking on, if he makes it that far.

(The least vengeful and the most happily married, but he isn’t quite so far gone to think bringing it up will be appreciated by anyone up top or down here.)

A lot of souls don’t manage to cross.

A lot less than Tim was expecting to see.

He wonders if they changed regulations since the ancient times. He can imagine the mess if they didn’t (Sorry Dick, I’m stuck in traffic at the entrance of the Underworld. A good two billions souls in line ahead of me. I’ll get back to you in three to four business-centuries. Don’t wait up!) just as well as the mess if they did. He wonders about the kind of stupid bureaucratic chaos it must have caused.

Stupid bureaucratic chaos is comforting. Familiar. Thinking about stupid bureaucratic chaos drowns out the wailing, the protests, the people trying to force their way past the walls of beasts guarding the doors. The panicked shouts of grieving realization.

He resolutely doesn’t think about what might happen if he’s made a mistake in his preparations.

** _-Oh, you gotta keep your head-_ **

** **

In one of the most terrifying moments of his life, someone bumps into him.

This is it. If he realizes Tim’s alive, he’s done for. Tim stares decidedly in front of him and tries to ignore him, ignoring the blood pounding in his ears. Look normal. Look disinterested. Do his best impression of a dead body.

Jason would get a kick out of it, but Jason’s not here, Tim might never even see Jason - or Steph, or Cass, or Dick, or Bruce, or Al-

He swallows.

Concentrating on the spirit in front of him might be a better idea, after all.

** _-You see, they kept their heads down low (if you wanna keep your head) -_ **

** **

He’s young. Younger than he should be. Younger than Tim is. Around the age Damian is. Was.

_Is_.

He doesn’t react much beyond the initial stop. Just side-steps Tim and continues forward, barely paying him any mind.

And that’s when Tim notices the difference between the souls that have been there a long time and the ones that have just arrived. He seems… faded, almost, his head down, face devoid of any expression.

A stark contrast to the wailing ones, near the gates.

** _-You couldn’t quite see their faces right-_ **

** **

He’s tempted to shout. To search the muddy banks for Damian. For his parents. For his friends. For all those he got back just to lose again.

He can’t. He knows he can’t. So he justifies it, in his head, hating himself a little more with each step he takes.

The world needs a Batman, you see.

And Batmen needs their Robin.

What Tim needs doesn’t matter, here. It’s not about him. It never was. It’s so much bigger than that. It’s not like he isn’t getting anything out of it.

(Damian will know. He’ll know Tim didn’t mean to leave him to die. He will escape the Underworld, unharmed, alive, fine, because anything less than that is unacceptable.)

As fair as Hades can sometimes decide to be, Tim doubts more than one soul will be allowed out.

(But Tim is selfish, see. He wants them all back. He wants it so bad it hurts, like a knife in his chest, in his throat, in his brain. Over and over and over it hurts and Tim is _tired_.)

** _-Oh, but you could hear them singing: Low, keep your head, keep your head_ **

** **

The closer he gets to the judges, the louder the cries get.

So Tim distracts himself. One step towards the river of hatred. He thinks of patrol. Of the good times. Of the bad. How every moment spent flying was utterly worth it, anyway. Another step towards the river of hatred. He thinks of love instead. Of Dick, of Cass, of Steph. Of Bruce.

Yet another soul walks past him. Obviously one of Joker’s victims. This one is a little less faded than the boy had been. She stops to look at Tim, at his Red Robin uniform.

Her eyes turn sad, but she walks away. Silent.

He regulates his breathing. Doing that makes him wonder whether or not the little demon had been scared.

Tim stares down at his feet to think.

** _-Swinging their hammers in the cold, hard ground. You could hear the sound of the pickaxe a-ringing-_ **

** **

He makes it. It’s his turn. To be judged. To cross.

He wonders how much time that really took. How long it’s been since he sent Bruce on Ra’s tail with false clues and false leads. If he’s back yet. If he’s worked out what Tim’s done.

Still. Tim had needed him to be distracted in order to put all of this into action. He’ll get to apologize later, maybe.

He steps forward. Looks up, straight in Minos’ eyes. Tim smiles, his best young CEO smile, and-

“King Minos.” He greets. “I apologize for the disturbance. I don’t fall under your jurisdiction just quite yet. Would you be so kind as to point me in Charon’s direction?”

For the first time in days, the words don’t taste like blood and steel when they spill out of his mouth.

So he speaks some more.

Cutthroat negotiations always were his strong suit.

** _-They called it “freedom”-_ **

** **

Charon is an old, ugly man in a filthy suit. He has a shrewdness about him that reminds Tim disturbingly of Ra’s. To walk up to the ferryman, he has to waddle through muddy waters until he’s knee deep in the Acheron. He can barely breathe. It feels like a thousand panic attacks combined. It feels like all his regrets slamming down on his shoulders. It feels like fire burning its way up his chest. It feels-

Like every time he’s lost someone.

Tim offers the ferryman a steely smile.

** _-I’m free! We’re free. Mr. Hades set us free._ **

** **

Charon leans on his pole to peer interestingly down at him. Behind him, on the boat, are other souls. They’re silent, in the same way a class of high-school students during an assembly can be silent. Aware of possible consequences, but just waiting for it to be over so the chatter can start back up.

Dead, yet so impossibly human.

“A mortal.”

Tim drags his eyes away from them and back to the ferryman.

“I am.” He agrees matter-of-factly. “I have urgent business to conduct with the Lord and Lady of the Underworld.”

He’s negotiated his way past the judges on skill alone. That won’t work with Charon. He reaches into a pouch of his utility belt and retrieves one of the artifacts he’s borrowed from Cassie. From Themyscira.

Tim’s done his homework: Charon can be bribed, for the right price. And then some.

Thankfully, he has decent experience in bribing people. He presents it without flourish. Lets the man have a glimpse, then hides it back in the pouch.

Rotten teeth flash at him. Beady eyes glint.

Hopefully, the Amazons won’t hold Damian responsible for the thefts.

He’s sure Cassie can deal with damage control. She was the one he tricked, after all. He’s not proud of it. But there’s very little Tim wouldn’t do if given enough cause.

** _-Mr. Hades set you free-_ **

** **

Charon grabs his arm, hauls him onto the boat. Tim murmurs a thank you and hands him the artifact. Each second spent out of the river makes him feel lighter, better. He looks up, takes a second to draw comfort from the familiar environment - at this point, a good third of Tim’s life has been spent in a cave.

Then he goes to sit in the far back of the boat.

“It’s you!”

The shout startles him. He turns around, and immediately wants to be sick.

She was no older than six. She’s sporting the same gaping smile she was when he tried to save her. The same gaping wound, too. If the EMT’s had been just a little quicker, if Tim had destroyed that damned hat sooner, if-

“It’s you!” She says again. “It’s really you!”

She jumps in his arms, laughing. He’s too baffled, hurt, sick, disgusted, to do more than catch her.

“It’s you, it’s you, it’s you!”

Next to them, an older man, in his nineties, looks at them fondly. ‘Thank you.’, he mouths.

Tim doesn’t know how to react anymore.

“Hey.” He says. It feels wholly inadequate. “Hey, Alice.”

“You remember me.” She beams and hugs him even tighter. She’s tearing up a little. Tim thinks he might be too.

“Of course I do.” He can’t forget.

They have limits, they have to know and accept that, but some nights _limits_ still feel too much like failure.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“You stopped him. You were nice.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t-” His throat closes up.

The old man puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder, shaking his head. The girl shrugs his apology off, unbothered, but curious.

“It’s okay. I found Grandpa. Did you die, too?”

“Ah. No. I didn’t.”

She looks confused.

“But you’re here.”

Well, yes. He has someone to save. But it can’t be her this time either.

“Did you know I had- _have_ a little brother?”

It’s his first time admitting it out loud.

But Damian had known, right?

No. No, most likely not.

“_Duh_. Robin.”

It’s his turn to look relieved.

“Exactly. Robin got a little _lost_-” Why is he trying to spare her what happened, she’s _dead_ for God’s sake. Killed. She knows. Worse, it makes it sounds like he’s blaming Damian for it. “-and. And.” He can’t have that, he can’t look the rest of the family in the eye, he can’t lose yet another person, please, no more, weren’t his mom, dad, Dana, Steph, Kon, Bruce _enough_\- “And I’m trying to find him.”

“Oh, okay.” Alice shrugs. “My brother found me when I got lost in the mall, once.” She tells him, super seriously, and pats him on the head, comforting, with all the confidence in the world. “I was in the ice cream shop. I like chocolate flavor the best, but-”

The gigantic iron gate of the Underworld starts to loom as they get closer. Tim buries his face in her hair and laughs a little hysterically. Until he nearly makes himself sick.

If they make it out of here, he’s never calling Damian a demon again.

** _-To work yourself into the ground-_ **

** **

There was no turning back when he stole from Cassie, from the Amazons.

No turning back when he found the Underground’s entrance.

No turning back when he negotiated his way past the judges, or bribed Charon.

He’d known that when he’d taken those decisions.

Yet, it’s reaching the gate that really drives the point home. It’s leaving the boat. The knowledge that, _yes, this is it now_, settles deep in his bones. It’s a terrifying form of certainty, the kind that gives him courage. He has something to do. A plan. He can act, now, fix all of this.

He doesn’t have to stand on the sidelines and watch as everything he’s built falls apart. Not anymore.

** _-Free to spend eternity in the factory, in the warehouse-_ **

** **

Tim’s not suicidal. He doesn’t want to stay here. Ideally. He has… _ideas…_ in place, as always. Plans. A way out of the Underworld, if everything goes perfectly as it should.

It’s just that Tim’s used to working with probabilities. And while it’s possible, always possible, for everything to go right.

It’s probable it won’t.

He refuses to let Damian be the one to pay the price this time.

** _-Where the whistles scream. And the foreman shouts. And you’re punchin’ in. And punchin’ in. And punchin’ in.-_**

** **

With the smirk of someone that knows something Tim doesn’t, Charon points him in the right direction.

Tim walks. In an effort to stop thinking, he concentrates on memorizing the way through the tunnels. It’s residual training from his Robin days, but mostly it’s something to do.

The deeper underground he gets, the less people he encounters. The noises have been reduced to nothing by the time he’s standing in front of an ornate door.

** _-And you can’t punch out!-_ **

“My Lord.”

“I should have known to expect you here. Meddling. Again.”

“What can I say? I’ve been told reckless loyalty is a prominent family trait of mine. Tradition, so to speak.”

“You have no need to be ‘told’. You demonstrated that quite thoroughly yourself the last time this happened.”

“At any rate, it worked. We must be doing something right. Am I to understand that the same terms still apply, then?”

“Not quite. He’s taken great risks, trying to force his way here. We’re not ready for that kind of large scale arrivals. Not yet.”

“Calculated risks, but I do see your point. What then? Should we find a way to fix it?”

“No. That’ll be their task. Let them learn not to try this again.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, my Lord.”

“You, on the other hand, need to keep the other three from making it worse. Reckless idiocy is another prominent family trait of yours. Or so _I’m_ told.”

“You do realize that you are only insulting yourself in the process?”

“Perish the thought.”

“With all due respect, found family is the best kind of family there is, _my Lord_.”

“_Kindly_ remove yourself from my throne room.”

“And you cannot deny that us cooperating has improved things by quite a lot down here.”

“You have had some…decent ideas over the years. As have your husband. That much I’ll admit.”

“Thank you. Do take the care to greet your grandsons properly, this time.”

“They’re no family of mine.”

“Our Lady of the Underground would likely disagree.”

“And _that_ is the sole reason you haven’t been thrown into Tartarus yet. Still, with each interaction, my patience seems to grow thinner.”

“I can’t bring myself to believe that. But I’ll take my leave. We are on a schedule.”

“They _are_ daring. I’ll give them that.”

** _-You’re way down Hadestown (oh you gotta keep your head low) Way down under the ground!-_ **

** **

Tim stares at the door. He’s been waiting in front of it for what feels like hours, but most likely has barely been ten minutes. He’s starting to wonder if this is a test. Is he expected to wait politely? Barge into the room? Find a way to sneak in?

Are the gods even in there? Do they have visiting hours? They probably don’t just sit on their throne all day, but where do they go in the meantime? Is Tim supposed to track them down?

He’s talking himself out of setting fire to the door using one of the carved torches adorning the walls - it would be rude and might not even work, just because it looks like wood does not mean it’s wood, or untreated, or easy to set on fire - when he hears someone clears their throat pointedly behind him.

He turns around, then pales.

Tim is not prepared for Persephone herself to stride past him, clap a hand on his shoulder, and steer him forward with a wink.

There’s no doubt as to the identity of the goddess. She’s formidable.

** _-But I don’t understand... you said this was the promised land!-_ **

** **

Hades does not sit upon a throne of fire and brimstone amongst the remains of his defeated enemies.

No. 

Hades sits in a comfortable desk chair, in a tastefully decorated study. It has an aloe vera plant. As a matter of fact, the room is full to the brim with plants. Colorful flowers, hanging vines, cacti. The lighting is soft and cozy, a warm yellow that’s reminiscent of sunlight. There’s a dog curled up in the corner of the room. For an irrational moment, Tim thinks it’s Titus. Then the dog raises its heads, and he realizes how out of his depth he is.

Upon the desk are dozens of files, haphazardly organized into precarious-looking piles. There are a few blueprints too, if he isn’t mistaken.

When Persephone guides Tim in the room, Hades stops writing, sets his pen aside, and looks at them from over the brim of his glasses. His eyes are an icy sort of blue, piercing. Analyzing Tim’s every move.

The action reminds him so much of Bruce that his throat tightens until he nearly chokes.

“Well?” Hades prompts dryly.

Persephone’s hand leave Tim’s shoulder when she goes to sit on the edge of the desk. As soon as she’s within reach, Hades proceeds to take her hand and press a kiss her palm. She smiles warmly at the action.

“My Lord and Lady of the Underworld.” Tim bows his head politely, having gotten himself under control. “I thank you for your willingness to see me.”

“You make decent enough entertainment.” Hades humphs. “Though many of your choices are irredeemably stupid.”

Er.

“I- excuse me?”

“What exactly was it about risking the Amazons’ wrath that sounded smart to you, boy?”

“I…apologize?” Tim says, slowly. “I was left with no other choice.”

“No other choice, he says.” Hades grumbles. “He didn’t see any other choice. No. The only obvious choice was risking an international war. Do you know the kind of work I would have been buried under, boy? Do you?”

“Oh, hush.” Persephone rolls her eyes, swatting at Hades. “Stop bullying him. You found it daring.”

This is not going the way Tim thought it would.

“Daring, yes. Stupid, also.”

“I tried to make it as safe as possible.” Tim says. Pleads his case, really. “I meant not offense. The risk was minimal. It was worth taking.”

He wants to hit himself. Now is not the time to offend the gods.

“Yes, you have very loyal friends, boy. You ought to thank them. Her. Though,” Hades adds, with a tad of begrudging admiration in his voice. “- the precautions you took were not entirely worthless, I suppose.”

Tim tries not to let hope that’s blooming in his stomach shows on his face.

“Very well.” Is sighed. “You’re here for your brother, I gather?”

Tim swallows hard.

“Yes.” He says. “Yes, please. I am.”

And with a wave of Hades’ hand, Damian appears in the room.

** _-You sell your soul, you get your due. That is all we promised you.-_ **

** **

Damian is silent. He’s not moving.

If the large hole where his heart is supposed to be isn’t enough of an indicator that something is wrong, Tim would be put on alert by that fact alone.

Unlike last time, however, there’s no Dick falling to pieces in the background.

Unlike last time, Damian’s face isn’t frozen in a single expression. Confusion, relief, homesickness, uncertainty, when he catches sight of Tim. Shock, comprehension, rage, when he catches sight of Hades.

Why isn’t he moving? Why isn’t he talking? Snarling, making a sound, anything? Anyt-

Oh.

Tim bows his head again to ask:

“If I may, my Lord. Is restraining him really necessary?”

The corner of Hades’ mouth twitches up in a half-smile.

Then, Damian is speeding forward, running towards him. His left arm raises, draws back.

Tim gets punched in the face with enough strength that he has to take a step back to stay on his feet.

_‘Don’t you dare. Cretin.’_ is signed his way.

Snarling, the little gremlin whirls around to stare at the gods. Damian points first at Tim, then upwards. Then he crosses his arms expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

“Your brother came to bargain.” Persephone says with no small amount of poised amusement. “We settled on an agreement. A life for a life.”

She’s playing games, of course, testing them, waiting for them to react. He hasn’t bargained yet, hasn’t made any kind of offer. Tim doesn’t call her out on the lie. He still doesn’t think it will come to that. But he won’t back down if it does.

Damian bares his teeth. He stalks up to Hades, grips his collar, then repeats the pointing motions. _Tim. Up._ He snarls. _Tim. Up._ He snarls and crosses his arms.

That’s when Tim realizes Hades and Persephone _like_ Damian. A whole lot. It’s the lack of smiting, the lack of eternal torture by means of giant arm-eating worm, or something equally fitting, if disgusting. Though whether that will make bringing him back to the surface easier or more difficult remains to be seen.

** _-Heard that mighty trumpet sound, Crossed the river to the Other Side, Thought you’d lay your burdens down and rest in peace in Paradise-_ **

** **

Coming here, Tim had a plan. It involved a lot of guess work, a few risks, but was viable enough.

Hades breezes right past it.

“I’m told you’re heroes.” The god asks, pressing his fingers together.

“Vigilantes, my Lord.” Tim says, unable to stop looking at Damian. Damian snarling. Moving. Conscious.

Dead.

“Yes, that. I’m sure you will prove able to complete two menial tasks in exchange for your brother’s freedom, then.”

Tim doesn’t miss the fact that he’s not included in the offer. It would seem Damian doesn’t either. He’s still unable to make a sound, but he gets into Hades’ face and points at Tim again.

“Mine and my brother’s?” Tim asks.

“No.” Persephone says. Tim stills. She trains her piercing eyes on him. “There is nothing you can say that will change our mind, Little Bat.”

He’d expected that.

Not wanted it, but expected.

“What are the tasks?” He asks. Damian whirls around to stare at him. He looks stunned. Furious, but stunned.

“You are acquainted with Queen Hippolyta, I presume?”

“I am.”

“She’s a friend of mine.” Hades says. “Hercules stole her belt some years back. He’s still hoarding it to this day. Get it back.”

Tim nods.

“And the other?”

“Destroy a spring.”

Not what Tim was expecting, but okay.

“It lies east of Hercules’ house. You will recognize it when you find it. Accomplish both these tasks and your brother goes free.”

It seems too easy. But then, Tim supposes it’s not the only price he’s paying.

** _-But there ain’t no rest for your weary soul, Hades keeps you toiling. Shoveling coal in a big black hole to keep his boiler boiling.-_ **

** **

The first task _is_ too easy.

It almost feels like a regular night on patrol. They find first the house, then a vantage point, sneak around without being seen, steal the belt.

From there, it’s only a matter of escaping the house. Sneaking back out, really. It’s a bit different, doing it in the daylight, admiring the Mediterranean plants and decor instead of admiring the smoke filled sights of Gotham, but it’s familiar enough that they don’t need to talk beyond a few hand signs.

Tim hands the belt to Damian who stores it in a pouch of his Robin suit.

He’s almost startled when, once they’re safely on their way to the second task, Damian says-

“You came for me.”

“I did.” Tim replies keeping his tone even.

“Why.”

Damian didn’t know. He had died without knowing. Tim closes his eyes.

“You’re my kid brother, Damian.”

He hopes he will leave it as that. It’s already far more than what Tim is usually willing to say to him. He doesn’t.

“You despise me.”

“I don’t.”

“Spare me your lies, Drake, Grayson isn’t here to hear them. You made plans to eliminate me.”

“I put you on the same list as _other heroes_.”

Damian falters at that. Tim finds that suddenly he can’t stop.

“Shit, Damian. I know you hate me, and I’m sorry I’m not enough, I’m sorry I’m not Dick.” Tim takes a deep breath. “and I’m. I’m sorry I didn’t come when you faced the Heretic. I should have never let you- I.”

He takes another deep breath, pushes a branch aside. “I’m sorry for all of that, but you’re my _kid_ brother. And I don’t care if you hate me, I can’t hate you. I tried, but I can’t, because you can be an irritating little shit but you’re you. And I can’t- You can’t be dead. You can’t.”

“I do not hate you.” Damian says, softly.

Tim doesn’t reply.

“I don’t.” Damian insists. “I saw you as a threat.”

“What?” Tim laughs. It’s bitter, maybe.

“How could I not?” Damian asks. “Father chose the four of you. You have Grandfather’s respect. Grayson’s love and legacy. The hero community acknowledges your skill without ever doubting your intentions. I have none of that.”

“You’re wrong.” Tim interjects.

“But I do not hate you.”

He’s forced to a stop before he can answer, because they’ve reached their destination. A spring of Lazarus-green water, right in front of them.

“Is that-?”

And, oh, well played.

It’s tempting. It’s tempting to use the Lazarus pit on Damian, then bundle him back up to the surface. But that would break the terms of his deal, when really Hades has been helpful so far. Angering him can only make things worse.

What’s more, after listening to Jason’s stories, the first few times his older brother was vulnerable enough to talk about that, well.

He really doesn’t want to subject Damian to that.

They destroy it in silence. At the very least, Ra’s will have access to one less pit. Tim tries to take comfort in that fact.

** _-Way down Hadestown-_ **

“Hey, Tim. If you’re getting this, I need you to answer me. I know I haven’t been there a lot, recently, but I’m here for you. You know that, right? You have to know that. I need to know you’re okay. So call me back, okay? I love you.”

** _-Way down Hadestown -_ **

** **

“Hey, Replacement. Quick question. The fuck were you thinking disappearing like that at a time like this? You’re giving the old man an heart attack. Call me back.”

** _-Way down Hadestown-_ **

** **

“So, your friend came over today. You know, blonde, amazon, mean right hook? Furious at your ass? I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but she’s covering for you. For now. I swear to god, when we find you you’re going to get the ass-chewing of a lifetime.”

** _-Way down under the ground!-_ **

** **

“Found anything?”

“No.”

“Do you think someth-”

“No.”

“B, he’s okay, right?”

** _-But don’t you see? It’s different with me!-_ **

** **

They’re crawling in a cramped tunnel that’s barely high enough for Tim to raise his head, when Damian asks in a low voice.

“How’s-” He stops.

Tim’s never known Damian to be anything but confidently arrogant. Protectiveness he’d never once thought he’d feel surges in his chest.

“Dick?” Tim asks in a soft voice. “He’s-” It only takes one look at Damian’s face to go with a kinder truth. “He really misses you.” They reach an opening leading to a wider, less cramped, tunnel. Tim jumps down, then absentmindedly reaches up to help Damian. “We all did.”

“Is he alright?”

Tim hesitates a moment too long. Damian clenches his jaw.

“He will be.”

** _-Different than who? They thought they were different too.-_ **

** **

“And you thought you leaving would help him any?” Damian spits out.

Tim bristles.

“Hey, Dames. It’s going to be fine, okay? I’m getting you out of here. They’ll be okay.”

“You’re a bigger idiot than I realized you were if that’s what you think, Drake.” The kid- gremlin. The gremlin. - stalks off.

“Oop.” Tim mutters, brushing some earth from his uniform.

They make it back to Hades’ room in a record time, Damian silent, Tim unsure on how to make it better. There’s a beat of silence standing in front of the door.

“Damian-” He tries.

“No.”

As it turns out, there’s no enough time for him to do that, but it has to be okay. It has to be enough, because Damian knocks on the door and it might be the last time he sees the gremlin for a very very long time.

** _-Down in the river of oblivion. You kissed your little life goodbye-_ **

** **

They enter.

“We’re done.” Damian says.

“Very well. You’re free to go.” Hades tells Damian, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

“No.” Damian says.

“Excuse me?” Hades raises his head.

“I said no.”

“Damian.” Tim snaps. A slow, but terrible, smile spreads on Persephone’s face. She plays idly with a file on the table as she watches it unfolds.

“Do shut up, Drake.” He turns back to the gods. “I find the terms of this bargain unacceptable. Seeing as we already accomplished what you asked of us-”

“_Damian_.”

“No, let the boy finish.” Hades’ own grin is sinister. “I’m in need of a laugh.”

Damian draws himself up to his full height, offended. He slams his hands on the god’s desk.

“I demand Timothy return with me to the surface.”

“Or?” Hades quirks a brow.

“Or I will stay and spent every minute of my eternity down here making yours as excruciating as possible.”

Terror starts to flood Tim. This isn’t happening. Not when he’s so close to getting Damian out. He drags the kid back, puts him behind him.

“Damian, _go._”

“Threats? Amusing. I could throw you into Tartarus.” Hades says, with the long-suffering air of someone that’s repeated something too many times. “That ought to take care of that.”

“Please do.” Damian snarls. “See if I don’t find a way out.”

Amazingly, Hades laugh. The sound reverberates in the room, causing Cerberus to raise two of its heads, tail thumping a steady rhythm against the stone floor.

“Oh, all right.”

What? Tim’s lost. He looks at Persephone.

“But you said-”

“Quiet, Drake.” Damian hisses.

Persephone stands up, walks over to Tim. “I said there was nothing you could say, Little Bat. I did not say the same about your brother.”

Hades nods.

“I’d wondered when you would try. To be frank, I was hoping you’d make a run for it. I would have enjoyed seeing you battle my guard.”

Damian glares. Tim has the half-hysterical thought that he still might just do that.

Persephone waves a hand.

“It would have been disappointing to see the little Bat abandoned here.”

“Quite.” Hades agrees. “What do I gain by keeping you here? Fifty years of depression? No, thank you. You’ll be back eventually. Now shoo. Run along.”

“Dear, the terms.”

“Oh, right. Can’t let Zeus think I’m slacking off. You’re familiar with Orpheus’ tale, I take it?”

Tim nods, numbly.

“We’re not uncultured.” Damian snaps. He’s the picture of defiance, arms crossed. But Tim looks closer at him and realizes it’s not arrogance. It’s fear.

“It’s similar enough. But to spice things up a bit, make it fairer, we’ll change a key thing or two.”

“Such as?” Tim asks.

“Well, since you both seem so eager to defend each other, let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

** _-And Hades laid his hands on you, and gave you everlasting life.-_ **

** **

“The terms are as follow,” Hades ’ voice takes on a booming quality. The air shimmers with magic. “You both will be allowed to return to the world of the living provided,” His smirk takes on a gleeful quality. He looks at Tim. “You do not open your eyes or try to defend yourself at all for the duration of the journey to the world of the living and its perils. You will have to rely on trust to make it out alive. You,” He looks at Damian. “are not allowed to make a sound, touch him, or try to signal your presence any other way before he opens his eyes. You are allowed to defend him if something attack the both of you, of course. Are we in agreement?”

Tim could kiss Bruce for his training on how to operate any mission without sight. This time, he lets the savage hope he’s feeling show on his face.

“We are.”

Damian nods mulishly.

“Oh, and two more things.” Hades says.

“You will tell no one of the terms of this deal, is that understood? You try to tell anyone, I’ll drag you back here myself. The last thing I need is more mortals invading my home, thinking they’ve got a chance.”

“You enjoy it.” Persephone snarks.

Tim winces. _That’s_ not going to go over well if they make it to the surface. Keeping them in the dark will be near impossible, knowing Bruce.

“Agreed.” Damian says. “What is your last request?”

He manages to say ‘last request’ like he’s the one that’ll ensure Hades’ won’t ever be physically able to make any other.

“Oh, a simple one, really.” Hades says. He points at the dog. “Take him with you. You two have been making hearts-eyes at each other since your death, and I am _sick_ of his whining at night.”

Tim knows it’s a bad idea, he _knows_ that, especially when he’s just managed to obtain what he came here for, but he still can’t stop himself from asking. If there’s the slightest chance-

“My parents. My friends. Are they-” He can’t bring himself to finish the question.

Persephone lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Be careful not to overstep your boundaries, Little Bat. You have quite the habit of pushing them.”

The wording she’s using makes it sounds like a threat - and she _is_ one of the most formidable goddesses there is - but somehow Tim doesn’t feel in any sort of danger at that moment. She’s looking at him with something affectionate in her gaze. She kisses his forehead lightly then steps back towards Hades taking with her some of the weight that’s been resting on his shoulders since his mother’s death and replacing it with a comfortable warmth, like going inside and snuggling in a blanket at the end of a long cold patrol.

“I-” For the first time in a long, long, while, he can’t find the right words. He’s overwhelmed with the sudden certainty that they’re fine. “-I will. Thank you, my Lady. For everything.”

“At the very least, one of you knows how to be polite.” Hades says. Damian has stopped glaring at the god like he’s considering impaling him on the golden bough Tim’s brought. He’s hugging his new dog’s neck. One of them. “I had given up hope.”

Persephone laughs.

“Do not let him fool you, Husband, he’s no different from the others. He’s simply had a rather difficult few years. They tied his tongue. Unfortunate, as I’m told his temper was a sight to behold.”

She ruffles Damian’s hair.

There is absolutely something Tim is missing here.

That, or he’s just been told to dial up the sass by two surprisingly affectionate gods.

“You ought to get going.” Hades says, sitting back in his chair. “Before another mortal does something exceptionally stupid that I’ll be forced to take care of again.”

They don’t need telling twice.

Tim bows. Glares at Damian until he does too.

Then he turns towards the room’s exit and closes his eyes.

** _-An everlasting overtime. In the mine, the mill, and the machinery.-_ **

** **

Deliberately keeping his eyes closed while making his way through the Underworld takes a self-control Tim wasn’t sure to possess.

The doubt is niggling, but it’s there. He makes it to the boat without much difficulty. Charon must have received specific instructions, because Tim doesn’t have to say anything.

Then the boat starts moving.

What if Damian _isn’t on it_?

He takes a breath to calm himself. Damian’s competent. there’s no reason he couldn’t have gotten on the boat. He’s most likely right next to Tim, glaring at everything, petting his new hell-hound. plotting Tim’s doom.

It only gets worse from there. He gets out of the boat. The clamor of the creatures is worse with his eyes closed then it was when they were open. It gets louder with each step.The cacophony of cries, screech and animalistic growls drowns everything else.

Tim trips.

Tim is so tired. He wants to see his family, not the broken version he left behind. If he fails. If he doesn’t manage to bring Damian back, there won’t be any do-overs, this time.

He gets up.

There’s a screech, right next to his ear. He has to make a conscious effort not to dodge.

Air rushes past him, but nothing hits him. A tearing sound. The screech stops.

It gives him a little bit of strength.

** _-Running his old asse_** ** _mbly line from Pluto to the Pleiades.-_ **

“Clark.”

“What are y- Dick, are you alright?”

“I can’t fin- Tim’s- I- _Please_.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You can hear people? Anywhere on earth, you can find people. Hear them?”

He nods. He can. Given the look on their faces, he doesn’t want to do it in front of them.

“I’ll get back to Earth. It’ll be easier than trying from the Watchtower.”

He doesn’t need to. Dick knows that. Bruce knows that. They don’t react to his lie. That, more than anything else, tells him something else has gone terribly wrong.

Batman turns, walking to the zetas without another word.

Clark tries.

** _-Way down Hadestown.-_ **

Again.

** _-Way down Hadestown.-_ **

And again.

** _-Way down Hadestown.-_ **

And again.

** _-Way down under the ground!-_ **

Even when he’s forced to admit that there’s nothing to hear.

** _-There must be some mistake!-_ **

They’re all staring at him expectantly. Clark swallows.

“I can’t find him.”

As soon as he’s let the words out, Cassandra strides out of the Cave with something wounded, dangerous in her eyes. He tries not to let his heart break. She’d been close with Tim, he knows.

“You’re wrong.”

“Bruce-”

“_Kent_. Our enemies would have made an example of Red Robin’s death. Publicized it. Had he died in his civilian identity, it would have made the news within the hour. You’re either mistaken or lying. Listen. Again.”

“Dick-”

Nightwing takes a step back, shaking his head.

“No. No. I don’t want to hear it. Even if - and that’s a big if - Tim had chosen to…to _go_, he would have left us something. A note. A clue. Anything.”

** _-Oh, it was a mistake alright. And now you gotta pay- And pay- And pay for it, for the rest of your life.-_ **

** **

“Unless he did.”

Jason’s leaning faux-casually against one of the Cave’s walls with his arms crossed. He carefully doesn’t straighten his posture when he becomes the center of everyone’s attention. Instead, he keeps his furious gaze trained on Bruce and takes care to unclench his jaw before speaking again.

“Themyscira. The amount of stealth required to pull off that job without being tied back to it? Not everybody can do that.”

“But why would he-”

“Think, Dickwad. What’s the one thing what he stole, most Greek myths, Tim’s background, and recent events have in common? I’ll give you three guesses. Just like with Robins, there’s two that don’t count.”

“I don’t kn-”

“Yes, you do. Death. Pull your head out of your ass and face the facts. He’s gone to the Underworld.”

“That’s not- He wouldn’t.”

“For his own benefit? Nah, he wouldn’t. For you two fuckers? You don’t deserve it, but he absolutely would. Congrats, B. You got what you wanted. A little birdie’s doing his _very best_ to provide you with an account of the happenings of the Underworld. Careful what you wish for and all that, I guess.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

** _-See, it’s like I said before: a lot can happen behind closed doors.-_ **

** **

They watch Jason as he turns, exits the Cave. They listen to the roar of his bike.

“B.” Dick urges. “B, what are you doing? B. Go after him.”

But Bruce is numb. All he can think about is how alone Tim must have felt to try that.

He’d never wanted to hurt them. He would have done anything. Anything to have Damian back. Anything to keep them all safe. Then, he could have helped, made amends. Apologized, helped them heal.

It sounds weak, even in his head. An excuse. Not even a good one. He had been desperate. Insane with grief. Blinded by grief and anger, and it was Tim and Jason that had paid the price.

Bruce’s numb now. If he stops being numb-

_No_

Bruce is numb. Empty. He can’t be anything else.

Damian’s - Tim’s-

_-No. please,_ **no.**

“Don’t try.” Dick snarls. “Don’t you fucking dare try to drive us away, B, I won’t let you. I’m coming back, just you see, because you are not half the monster you are trying to be. You can’t drive me away.” He’s ran to his own bike, secured his helmet. “I’m going after Jason, but we’re coming back, and we’re finding Tim-”

** _-Eurydice was a hungry young girl, but she wasn’t hungry anymore. What she was, instead, was dead-_ **

He thinks he feels wind on his face. He thinks he feels the sun.

He doesn’t risk it.

Just walks forward.

Forward and forward and forward and forward, until he’s exhausted.

Until eventually, he hears a car.

The sound is so out of place, after so much time spent in the Underworld, that he almost opens his eyes.

He doesn’t risk it. He can’t. Failure’s not an option, not at this stage, not now that Tim’s come so far.

He hears other cars, but continues walking. It’s almost certainly a trick, an hallucination. Tim refuses to fail.

A horn screams. Brakes screech. Tim doesn’t react. He doesn’t jump to the side.

He’s surprised by the impact. It’s not very strong, doesn’t break anything. Still, it catches his hip and sends him flying to the ground.

Car doors slam closed. Footsteps rush towards him. Tim tries to push himself up, but doesn’t quite manage it.

“Hey, is that-? But isn’t he-?”

“Dude, what the fuck.”

“But- The-”

A hand touches his shoulder. Damian wouldn’t have let anything get that close. He hasn’t so far. Damian can’t interact with him, either. Not yet.

Does that mean they’re out? Finally out?

Tim’s never been so happy to eat dirt before.

“Er- Mr Red Robin? Sir? Can you hear me? Please, please, _please_, don’t be dead.”

“Dude, what the _fuck_.”

He opens his eyes. The sky is dark, as is the road he’s laying on. They’re near some woods, the car’s lights are trailed on him. He searches for Damian.

He’s there, rooted in place in the shadows across the road, still in that bloodied Robin uniform. Scowling and furious and _alive_. As soon as they make eye contact, he unfreezes. Hell-hound bouncing joyfully at his feet.

The two civilians gasp as he comes into view.

Tim did it.

He _did_.

** _-Dead to the world, anyway-_ **

** **

Damian makes his way over, berating him for just about everything from his birth to their trip in the Underworld. Tim has never minded less being yelled at before.

The second he’s close enough to touch, Tim latches on his wrist He’s not about to hug him or anything emotional like that - neither of them would enjoy that - but he needs the reassurance. The little gremlin doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t pause in his berating, so he keeps it there.

They must look like a fright, Damian covered in blood, Tim in mud and minor injuries. His hip throbs with every beat of his heart.

“Dude, what the fuck.”

“Shut up, Michael. You’re not helping.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up! A tree fell on me! I ran Red Robin over!”

Tim looks at the young couple of civilians. He’s so exhausted he can barely think, but there are things that need to be done.

“Sorry about your car.” He mumbles. “I’ll pay for any damage I caused.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna pay! I just ran you over! What the f- Are you alright?!”

Michael tries to get closer, but Damian slides smoothly between the two of them and stands there, arms crossed, snarling.

“Get back.”

The ‘miscreant’ remains implied.

Tim swallows and squeezes his wrist. Just to be sure.

“I need a favor.” He asks the civilians.

“Yeah, of course.” They look so lost it’s almost laughable.

“I need you to take a picture of the two of us and upload it somewhere. Any website, it doesn’t matter. As long as it’s public. Maybe tag our names or something, it doesn’t really matter either. When Batman shows up, tell him: ‘golden bough’ and ‘Eurydice’. He’ll get it.”

They nod, speechless. Damian glares, but that’s par for course for the demo- _him_.

“Thank you. I am going to pass out now.” He warns. He can trust Robin to keep watch for an hour or two without anything going wrong. “Wake me up if it’s not Batman.”

** _-See, she went behind closed doors. And signed her life away.-_ **

** **

A loud _crack_ startles him awake. They jump up.

It’s not Batman.

It’s Flash and Nightwing, looking ready for a fight. But that’s before Dick catches sight of them. He stumbles down from his best friend’s back and Wally has to catch him before his legs give under his weight.

Then, he’s on them. He’s trembling. It’s awkward, sweat-smelling, too tight, and yet it still manages to be one of the best hugs Tim’s ever had.

“Grayson.” Damian breathes.

“I did it.” Tim mumbles. “See, N, he’s back. I fixed it.”

The sound Dick makes reminds Tim too much of a kicked dog.

But that’s alright. They’re alright. They’re alive, so Tim can fix it too, if he has to. Tim’s good at fixing.

What must have been a gust of wind pushes a tree branch to swat at the back of his head.

He laughs softly.

“Sorry.” He adds. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

** _-Saw that wheel up in the sky. Heard the big bell tolling.-_ **

** **

The only observation Tim gets to make before they’re engulfed in a cocoon of comforting, familiar cape, is how terrifyingly tired Bruce looks.

Bruce presses a rough kiss into Damian’s hair, then into Tim’s.

He tries to talk a few times, but he always seems to choke before he can get any word out.

“I missed you.” Tim whispers into the Kevlar. Then, because he has to get something out of the situation before he’s driven insane, and trying to get a rise out of Damian is always the way to go, he adds. “Damian did too.”

Damian makes a noise that could be interpreted as either assent or denial. But doesn’t rise up to the bait like Tim had hoped he would. Bruce clings to them tighter.

“Drake tried to give himself up.” Damian says. He sounds bone-weary, aching. Maybe a little stunned. “It’s unacceptable, Father. You need to do something about his behavior.”

“Never- Don’t you dare-” Bruce manages to snap at that. “Don’t you dare do that. Don’t you dare. Neither of you. Don’t- You’re irreplaceable. Don’t -”

\- **_A lot of souls have gotta die-_**

It’s not even seven when Tim goes to hole up in his room, but it’s seven hours of trying to escape Dick’s desperate grip and Cass’ relentless surveillance. He drops, star-fished on his bed. He’s too tired to sleep, too tired to think, too tired to try to make sense of things.

The windows barely makes a sound when it slips open, but Tim jerks out of his dozy state nonetheless.

He relaxes when the first hint of an eggplant-colored hood catches his eye.

“Heard you’re back.”

Tim grins.

“Welcome home, Tim, it’s very nice to see you, Tim, Thank you for bringing Damian back, Tim, so glad you had that brilliant idea, Tim-”

A thundercloud washes over her face, dark clouding her expression, and eyes crackling with furious lightning. Tim shuts up.

“I’m not about to congratulate you for the dumbest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Now, that’ll hurt Damian’s feelings.”

She clenches her jaw, grinds her teeth.

“You could have died, blockhead. I thought you had.”

The words are gritted. He deflates like a popped balloon when he notices the shine of tears in her eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?! Oh, great, he’s sorry. Wonderful. It’s all fine, then. You think ‘Sorry’ even begins to cover it? After the shit-show you put me through when I came back?”

“It doesn’t. But I _am_ sorry. I’m glad I did it, but I didn’t want to hurt any of you.”

Her anger doesn’t abate in the slightest. The hurt is plain as an open wound on her face.

“What’s it going to take to drill in your thick head that you’ve got people who care about you?”

“I’m-”

“No. You don’t get to do that. I am furious with you. I am beyond furious. I had no choice, no control over the situation, and you and Bruce still gave me endless amounts of shit about dying. You chose this.”

Tim clenches his teeth. Stands.

“I’m not going to apologize for bringing Damian back.”

“I’m not-” She spits. “- fucking asking you to.”

“I am, however, going to continue apologizing for how we treated you back then.”

She starts crying then, and Tim can’t take it, he can’t take that. He can’t.

“Fuck you.” She bites.

“I’m sorry. And I’ll say that as many times as you need me to.”

“Apology not accepted. Fuck you.” And she draws him in a hug.

“Fair.” He says. Mumbles into the fabric of her shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Never do that again.”

“I love you too, Steph.”

“You don’t do that.” She cradles the back of his head like he’s going to break, squeezes the air from his lungs with enough strength to just about do that. “When you have stupid ideas like that, you _take me with you_, you don’t leave me behind. You don’t leave me to wonder where your body’s going to turn up. If it does at all.”

“Sorry.” He chokes on the word, and for a little while, all the tears he didn’t shed since Damian’s funeral come out.

When she pulls back, her eyes are red. They’re still shining. Tim doesn’t feel like he’s going to break anymore.

She uses the corner of her cape to wipe at her face.

“Not forgiven. I’m glad the demon’s back.”

He offers a tentative smile. It feels wobbly, at best.

“I’ll deny it if you ever try to tell anyone else, but. Me too.”

The sound’s more of a bark than a laugh. Still, her tone turns somewhat playful.

“That ship’s long since sailed, blockface.”

And this. This he can do.

“You have no proof.”

“You brought him back from the dead.”

“Nope. No proof.”

“Seriously?”

“Our not-relationship is based purely on mutual distrust.”

“_Right_.”

“Right.”

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever not-die again.”

“That seems counterproductive.”

If she hits him with something, well. A pillow’s significantly better than a brick, in his books.

** _-To keep the Rust Belt rolling-_ **

** **

“Heard you’re back”

This time, when his room’s curtains flutter and a shadow slips through, Tim doesn’t jump. He’s not prepared for it, exactly, but Jason’s sudden appearance in his room does not give him a heart attack like Steph’s nearly had.

“You’re not hiding a brick somewhere underneath that jacket, are you?”

Jason takes his helmet off. Puts it on the bed. He looks bad. Really bad. More than that, the gaze he levels on Tim is furious.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing.” Tim replies.

“I’m going to do my best to ignore that and go straight to my point.”

“Okay?”

“What you did was dumb.”

“I’m-”

“I’m not done.” He growls, cutting Tim off before he can answers. Now that the dangerous tone’s out, Tim shuts up. “What you did was so incredibly fucking moronic that for a second, I couldn’t actually believe you’d done it.”

“I…what?”

“You’re better than that. Smarter than that.”

“Er. Th-”

“I’m still not done. What you pulled’s the kinda shit that sent me straight into Joker’s arms. But you know better. You could have asked for help and any of us would have been there in a heartbeat. So I’m going to ask exactly once. And you better have a good answer ready.”

Tim nods. It seems like every single family member has the exact same argument to hurl at him. The exact same lecture waiting for him, but he hasn’t been able to explain. He hasn’t been able to say it to Bruce’s, or to Dick’s face.

“Why didn’t you?”

But Jason looks at him, hurt, and love, and barely contained rage seeping from his green eyes. It reminds him of the time they started being brothers, back when Bruce was still lost in the time -stream. It reminds him of a time Jason tried to understand, and Tim’s mouth start working all on its own.

“Bruce was losing it.”

“Explain.”

“Bruce was losing it. Dick was losing it.”

“Still not seeing your point.”

“They were taking stupid risks. Making stupid decisions. I’ve lost too many people.”

And just like that, Jason sighs. The angry front’s gone.

“Shit, kid. That doesn’t make you expendable.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean jack if you’d do it again.”

“I’ve lost too many people.” Tim repeats. He barely stops long enough to think before he adds. “You’re not either, you know?”

“What.”

“Expendable. Or alone. You’re not either. You can ask.”

“Ha. You missed my getting the boot while you were busy gallivanting with worms.”

Tim’s going to have to investigate that.

“I don’t care. You know how to reach me. You can ask. I’ll always answer.”

“Ain’t that a nice thought.”

“It’s true.” He shrugs.

“What you did was beyond stupid.” Jason repeats, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his face. “But thank you for bringing him back.”

“I’d say anytime-” The wind picks up. The branch Jason used to reach his window slams against the wall, drawing their attention. A gross, molding, leaf flies through the open window to land in his open mouth. Tim has to spit it out. Small shreds cling to his tongue. “-but I’m really hoping I don’t ever have to again.” he finishes, glaring.

“Karma, Babybird.” He sounds tired.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Jason side-eyes him.

“Is it?”

“Do you remember being dead?” Tim blurts, again before he can stop himself.

“Is this about the deal you and Damian can’t tell anyone about?”

“No! Yes. Maybe?”

“I swear to god, Timbers, if you sold your soul or some kind of-”

“I didn’t! I promise, it’s nothing like that. Just answer the question, please?”

Jason hesitates a moment, expression hard, before doing it.

“I don’t. Nothing clear. I remember impressions. Feelings. My mom. And other people- Alfie? I don’t know.”

“Alfred?”

“Yeah. ’s stupid, I know. It’s all muddled. Just. D’you know I used to help him with the garden? Well, that. Same smell. And banter.”

“It’s not stupid.”

There’s a pause.

“If this is some roundabout way of telling me Alfred’s dead, I gotta tell you, it sucks.”

Tim swats at him.

“That’s not funny. Don’t even joke about that.”

“So what? He spends time in hell for shits and giggles?”

“Stop it.”

“I’ve always thought that he’s some sort of immortal and benevolent entity, but king of hell makes sense, really. I mean, he does manage to order your lot around, he’s got to have had some practice beforehand.”

“It’s the Underworld. Not hell. And no that’s not what I’m saying. In fact, I can’t tell you anything.”

“Convenient.” Jason stands up, puts his helmet back on. Tim follows. “I better get going before they come back. Try not to go for round two, would you? I’d hate to have to drag your ass back out.”

“So you don’t remember.” He pushes. Jason stills. Tilts his head to the side.

“I don’t. But I’ve read enough to put together some clues and make an educated guess.” He jumps out the window without looking first, then proceeds to turns both smug and awed when the tree shifts just enough to catch him. “Knew that wasn’t the Pit.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Why did it?”

It doesn’t break the terms of his deal if he answers, does it? Tim thinks it through.

It doesn’t.

“I think we’ve made an impression.” He shrugs. “Though maybe that was all you.”

The awe’s back.

“She-?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

Jason nods, gripping the tree tighter. In the next blink, Tim gets a face-full of leaves. By the time he’s done coughing, there’s no sign he was ever here.

“You suck.” Tim hollers through the open window, though he’s not entirely sure which one of them he’s addressing.

** _-A lot of spirits gotta break to make the underworld go ’round-_ **

** **

“Thank you. That was kind of you.”

Persephone turns.

“Well. I am the patroness of bats, am I not?”

“Still.” Martha Wayne replies as she hands her a cup of wine. They sit and watch for a moment as plants flourish all around the goddess in an explosion of vibrant colors. “Thank you.”

An amused expression flits across Persephone’s features.

“You would never have let me forget it, had I kept your grandsons here.”

“Too right.” Martha agrees, sipping from her own glass. “I’m ever so glad we understand each other.”

Persephone snorts.

“I remember all too clearly the hell you rose when the sassy one died. Not to mention that I did not feel like dealing with your son’s attempts to bring them back. He can be quite stubborn.”

“Oh, just admit it already. You’ve grown fond of them over the years.”

“Fond of our friendship, maybe. You are far more stubborn than he could ever hope to be.”

Martha doesn’t answer. The atmosphere grows warmer. The smell of salt and myrtle permeates the air as shrubs and vines creep closer to them, covering what little expanse of rock was still bare. Impossibly, somewhere, cicadas start singing. Persephone refills their cups.

“Stop fretting. They will be alright, you know?”

That gets a reaction.

“They better.”

“It is as I said: I am the patroness of Bats. Am I not?”

“You two were promoted to Godparents decades ago, dear, there’s no need to ask.”

The smile that blooms on the goddess’s face is as radiant as the sun.

“Mmh. Perhaps that’s why a more…practical approach is required in this case, then. Familial responsibilities. One simply can’t dodge them. We had to interfere.”

It’s Martha’s turn to snort.

“I’m sure. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you have nothing whatsoever to do with a certain redheaded Gothamite? A coincidence, is it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s got your fingerprints all over it.”

“I am unsure as to your meaning.”

“It’s: ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean_._’ when paired with that much sarcasm, dear. That said, nice deadpan expression. Very well done. You’re getting better at that.”

“Thank you. I am trying. She showed potential.”

“Oh _did_ she, now?”

The silence that settles around them as they enjoy their wine is comfortable.

Twilight’s come and gone before Martha speaks again. Fireflies scatter when she stands up. They don’t when she extends a hand to the goddess.

“That’s all well and good, but I have some more ideas as for how to help improve the mess you’ve got going downstairs.”

“Tell me.”

“Now, keep in mind that it was originally supposed to improve Gotham’s public transports. But we’ve been working on modifying it for the last ten years or so, and we’ve come to realiz-”

** _-Way down Hadestown, way down under the ground.-_ **

**Author's Note:**

> How could I resist giving Damian the dog. I couldn't, that's how. I just couldn't. Hades: better grandpa than Ra's al Ghul.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Underworld](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212069) by [Ilast (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ilast)


End file.
